We're Gonna Make It
by fakeituntilyoumakeit
Summary: Edward meets Jasper at a party he never even wanted to be at; and is completely enamoured with him. With a little 007 work from Rosalie, Alice, Paul and Jacob - they try to make Edward's happy ending a reality. - Jasper/Edward Rosalie/Paul a little Jacob/Rosalie AU Non-Cannon couples


**This is something I've been working on for a while, so please read, review and as always, enjoy! **

**WARNING: THIS IS A FIC WHERE BOYS HAVE ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR OTHER BOYS.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series.**

* * *

I don't even know why I'm at this stupid party, I, Edward Cullen, amongst assorted horny, high drunk kinds. If someone from school knew I was here, they'd never believe it. Rosalie, my best friend and exgirlfriend of my brother, dragged me here because she's checking out some guy she likes, Embry somethingorother.

I have to admit though, when I find Rosalie again – its pretty fun. This Quil kid has jumped on board with us – and brought his girlfriend Claire and another cute girl who's giving me dirty eye. They're rez kids, transferred to our school after some punks from Seattle burnt theirs down. The parties at Jared somethingorother's house, and the house is stacked with seniors and juniors alike.

Jared's music is pretty infectious. People are crooning and swooning into eachother. Everythings a spinning row of colors, the passing blur of faces.

I sway, I sing, I elevate. My friends are by my side, and Sam Uley (the makeshift DJ) is working the beat. I spin around and knock a few books to the ground; I bend down and retrieve them, catching my reflection at the bottom of a long mirror. My hair points in ten directions at once, my green eyes are foggy behind thick lenses, my cheeks are flushed, my thin shoulders are heaving, and my even thinner hips are still swaying.

Suddenly, I'm face to face with blue running shoes.

"This yours?" a voice above the sneakers asks.

I look up, and there's a boy standing there.

His hair is thick and wavy, just brushing a square jaw. His eyebrows are thick, and his eyes are a little close together but man, they sure are a pretty chocolate brown.

I think he's wonderful.

He's holding the book out to me. I am aware of my breathing. I am aware of my heartbeat. I am aware that my shirt is hanging open. I take the book from his and say thanks. I put it back on the shelf, there's no way that self help can help me now.

"Do you know Jared?" I ask, nodding to the kitchen, where he's doing shots off Leah Clearwater's navel.

"No," he says. "I'm here with my cousin," he nods towards Mike Newton.

"I'm Edward."

"I'm Jasper." He shakes my hand. I am touching his hand. I can just feel Rosalie keeping her curious distance.

* * *

I've always known I was gay, but it wasn't confirmed until kindergarten. It was my teacher, Mrs. Reagan, who confirmed it. It was right there on my kindergarten report: _Edward is definitely gay and has a very good sense of self. _

I saw it on her desk before art time.

I have to admit, I probably wouldn't have noticed I was different if she hadn't pointed it out. I mean, I was five years old. I just assumed boys liked other boys. Why else would they spend all of their time together, playing on teams and making fun of girls? I was still unclear how girls fit into the picture.

Imagine my surprise when I found out I wasn't entirely right. Imagine my surprise when I went through the other reports at recess and none of the other kids were labelled as_ gay_ (in all fairness, none of the others had _very good sense of self_, either) Mrs. Reagan caught me at her desk and looked quite alarmed. Since I was more than a little confused, I asked for some clarification.

"What's gay?"

"It's when a boy likes other boys."

I pointed to the corner, where Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley were wrestling on the ground.

"Is Tyler gay?"

"No, honey."

"Is Mike gay?"

"Neither of them are," She answered. "At least, not yet."

Interesting, I found the whole thing very interesting. I'd noticed that most marriages were boy-girl, like my parents and all my friends parents, but I assumed it was just another adult quirk, like flossing. To me, boy-girl love was like global conspiracy.

"How I feel is whats right ... right?"

"For you, yes," She told me, her face creasing with a smile. "What you feel is absolutely right for you, never forget that."

I never have, sort of.

That night, I held my big news until Pokemon _and_ Naruto was over (which was torture, believe me) My father, Carlisle, was in the kitchen, doing dishes, Emmett, my brother was reading a Superman comic on the couch (we'd gotten into a fight, and I'd lost, AGAIN) and my mother, Esme, was in her favourite recliner, doing a crossword puzzle. Quietly I walked over to her.

"GUESS WHAT?!" I yelled. She jumped, and then tried to pretend I hadn't scared her. Since she didn't close her book of puzzles, so I knew I didn't have much time.

"Yes, Edward?" She asked kindly.

"I'm gay!" Parents never react the way you want them too. I thought at the very least, my mother would close her book. Instead, she turned in the direction of kitchen and yelled to my father.

"Honey ... Edward's learned a new word!"

It took my parents a couple of years, but they eventually got used of it.

* * *

Besides my parents, Rosalie was the first person I ever came out to.

This was in the fifth grade.

We were under my bed at the time because she'd come over to hangout and under my bed was easily the coolest place in my massive house. We brought flashlights and told ghost stories as Emmett's video games echoed through the house. We were playing our favourite game, would-you-rather.

"Would you rather ... kiss Eric Yorkie or ... lick my feet?" I asked, propping my chin on my hand.

"Lick your feet, Eric Yorkie is gross," she wrinkled her nose and squinted.

"Would you rather kiss Jessica Simpson, or Ashley Simpson?" She asked, rolling the flashlight between her fingers.

"Jessica Simpson. Ashley sort of freaks me out," I answered, crossing my ankles. "Would you rather kiss my dad, or Mr. Henderson?"

"Um ..." Rosalie trailed off. At first, I figured I had her stumped. Then she leaned over, eyelids closing. She smelled like bubblegum and pepsi. Before I knew it, her lips were coming near mine. I was so freaked out, I tried to stand up. Since we were under my bed, I crashed into the bottom of my mattress.

Her blue eyes opened quickly after that.

"What'd you do that for?!" We both yelled at the same time.

"Don't you like me?" Rosalie asked, clearly hurt.

"Yeah, but you know, ... I'm gay."

"Oh. Cool. Sorry." Her cheeks were tomato red.

"No problem."

There was a pause and then Rosalie continued.

"Your dad."

* * *

The next day at lunch, Charlie Casteneda traded me two wagon wheels for a box of raisons – clearly an unequal trade. The next day, I gave a pack of gum for three granola bars.

This was my first flirtation.

* * *

A boy named Mitchell Valencia was my date for my eighth grade semi-formal. Or at least he was supposed to be my date. Two days before the big shindig, we had a fight over a book he'd borrowed from me and lost. I know it was a silly thing to breakup over, but it was the way he handled it (lies! Deceit!) Luckily, we parted on friendly terms. Rosalie was supposed to be my backup date, she surprised me by saying that she was going with Mike Newton, a local bully, asshole, and arrogant prick.

This was a warning of bigger problems to come. But there was no way of knowing it then.

* * *

In the summer between eighth and ninth grade, I was tackled by two high school wrestlers, notorious bullies –Jeremy DeLorme and Vince Pennigton. I was just heading back to the theatre after a bathroom break– I was seeing 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire'. At first, I thought it was a strange form of foreplay, until I realized that their grunts were actually insults – queer, faggot, the usual. I wasn't about to take such verbal abuse from the likes of them. Luckily, I'd gone with a bunch of friends from the soccer team, and after a quick scuffle, sent them running for their over masculine trucks.

* * *

All in all, life through junior high was pretty fun. I didn't have a life that was so much out of the ordinary. The usual series of crushes, confusions and intensities.

Then I meet Jasper, and things become complicated. I sense it immediately, driving home with Rosalie slurring drunkenly in the backseat. I suddenly feel more complicated.

Not bad complicated.

Just complicated.

* * *

I look for him in the halls on Monday. I hope he's looking for me, too. Rosalie promises me she'll be my spy. I'm afraid she'll get too carried away because that's what always happens dragging Jasper over by the ear if she manages to find him.

But the connection isn't made. No matter where I go in the hallways, I never run into him. The hallways are crowded with underclassman and are awash with homecoming posters and post-weekend gossip. I look for Jasper like he's the only thing I need to survive.

Instead I run into Alice Brandon. Or more accurately, she runs into me – all black hair and pale skin and vanilla perfume. There are few sights grander than seeing a 4'9 girl with hair like a hedgehog in rainbow tights and a football jersey at nine o'clock in the morning.

"I'm so glad I caught you!" She squeals, her high pitched voice too much for this early in the morning. "Things are such a mess."

I don't know when Alice and I first became friends. Perhaps it was back when she first moved here. Alice has this ... odd way of expressing herself. She makes these odd little projects, like hats made of ribbon, and belts made of tinfoil. Needless to say, all the girls thought she was weird. Then, after a couple months, she joined the coaching staff for football, desperate to fit in a little. One day, while innocently stacking football cleats, a ball landed next to her. Without thinking she threw it back – and man did it fly. On the spot, Coach put her on the team. She eventually made first string Quarterback – you'd think it'd be problematic. But she was quick, and being tiny had its advantages around so many giant boys.

The football players are accepting of her, although there was a spot of trouble when a second string runningback named Paul Lahote fell in love with her last year and she said he wasn't 'her type.'

I am not alarmed when Alice tells me things are 'such a mess'. For Alice, things are always 'such a mess'. If they weren't, she would have nearly enough to talk about. She proceeds to tell me about how she flipped over this guy in practice and other football related things.

My attention is beginning to wander from our conversation. I was still scanning the halls for Jasper, knowing full well that if I saw him, I'd probably duck into the nearest classroom blushing madly.

"What has gotten you so distracted?" Alice ponders, grinning mischievously.

It is here that I feel the limit of our friendship. Because while Alice feels comfortable telling me everything, I am afraid if I tell her something, it will no longer be mine. It will belong to the whole school. "I'm looking for someone," I hedge.

"Aren't we all?" Alice vamps ruefully. I think I'm off the hook, but then she adds, "Is it someone _special?"_

"It's nothing," I cross my slender fingers behind my back.

Luckily, my denial has sent Alice back to her own dilemma. Something about color coordinating and football helmets and tight pants on men who shouldn't be wearing tight pants. I nod sympathetically, and her brown eyes see something over my shoulder and flash angrily.

"Don't look now," She whispers.

Of course, I turn and look. And there's Demetri Volturi walking by. Turning away from me like he might catch the plague from a single bubonic glance. He's just like I remember him, tanned skin, slightly too pointed chin, blue eyes and frosted brown hair that's smooth over his forehead. Demetri is the only straight boy I've kissed. (He didn't realize he was straight at the time.) We went out for a couple weeks in tenth grade. He is the only ex I'm not on speaking terms with. Sometimes I feel like he hates me. It's a very strange feeling; I'm not used of being hated.

"He'll learn," Alice says as Demetri recedes into the Biology classroom. She's been saying this for almost two years, without telling me who Demetri will ever learn from. I still wonder if it's supposed to be from me.

With some break-ups, all you can think about afterwards is how badly it ended and how much the other person hurt you. With others, you become sentimental for the good times and lose track of what went wrong. When I think of Demetri, the beginnings and the endings are all mixed up. I see his face in the mirrored door of my closet, I see him throwing the note I taped to his car door away without reading it, I see him writing his Science test with the pen I lent him, I see him calling me a loser and a queer, I feel his hand holding mine in the movie theatre, I feel how I felt when I knew he liked me, I feel the tears of when I found out he didn't like me anymore, I felt the stingy, hot touch of his hands on my thighs.

He said I'd tricked him. He said it to everyone.

Only a few people believed him, but it wasn't what they thought that mattered to me. It was what he thought. And he really believed it.

"He's the worst." Alice sniffs. Seeing Demetri brings me down, I'm no longer floating on my Jasper high. Alice smiles, trying to cheer me up. She reaches a tiny hand into her purse and extracts a chocolate bar, breaking off half and throwing it to me. I am nibbling on a corner when Rose comes up to me with her latest Jasper-report. "I`ve found people who know who he is – did you know he's a senior?- but nobody seems to know where he is. Paul was helping me, because Collin Littlesea, a friend of his, is in Jasper's geography class."

My inner security device is alarmed at the mention of Paul's name. In the past, I could always tell when things were getting better with Emmett because she would mention him in casual conversation purposefully, so I'd ask about him. Even though he was my brother, and I felt that I already knew too much about him. The fact that it's now Paul throws me for a loop.

Alice has kept quiet through this whole exchange. But I can tell she's about to burst from curiosity. "He's just some guy," I say.

"Do tell, Edward." She insists.

So I do. Tell. And I know that he isn't "just some guy." There was something in our two minutes that felt like it could last for years. Telling Alice this doesn't just feel like I'm setting myself up for gossip.

No. It feels like I'm putting my whole heart on the line.

* * *

Rosalie and I sit together for the pep-rally. The football teams off to some big-shot tournament. Emmett's been moaning about the extra-hard practices for months. So, as a result, here I am sitting in the bleachers of our gymnasium. Jacob Black is sitting on the other side of me; we were friends from the soccer team a while back. Jacob has it bad for Rosalie, but so do most guys. Stunning figure, flawless face, dark blue eyes and shimmering blonde hair; it was hard not to. Jacob has been trying to get Rosalie's attention, but to no avail.

He turns to me instead.

"You find your boyfriend, yet?" he asks. I glare at Rosalie, who innocently shrugs. "Hey, don't get mad at Rose," he defends his beloved quickly. "Paul asked me if I'd seen him, and I pieced two-and-two together. So, Jasper, is it? Did you find him?"

Panicked, I look around to make sure that Jasper isn't in the general vicinity. Luckily, he's not. I'm starting to wonder if he really exists and I didn't just dream him up because I'm lonely.

The pep rally starts, and I'm hardly paying attention. I cheer extra loud for Emmett and Alice, so they can hear my voice above the crowd. Emmett ignores me like the ass that he is, but Alice waves from her place in the line. I lean over to Rosalie. She's fixing her eyes on Paul Lahote.

I honestly don't know why. Paul is the second string runningback who fell for Alice last year and got all upset when she didn't return his affections. He was real bitter about it, worse than Rosalie when she gets in a foul mood. Rose, at least, is able to lose her cool without losing her sense of humour. I'm not sure Paul can do the same. Jake doesn't seem to notice where Rose's glance is anchored. He is looking elsewhere.

"Isn't that him?" he asks.

Because it's Jacob, he does right ahead and points at someone in the stands two rows over and one down. I squint to make out the face. At first, I think he's pointing at Demetri, and I'm about to tear him a new one until I realize that he is indeed, pointing at Jasper, who's seated a few seats away from Demetri.

I see an empty seat, and then, I stare right at Jasper. He senses me looking, I swear, because he looks right at me. Or maybe he's looking at Jake, who's still pointing.

"_Put your finger down,"_ I say through gritted teeth.

"Chill," Jake tells me, moving his finger in the air, as if he hadn't been pointing at Jasper at all. I play along. I try to act natural, but unfortunately Rosalie's broken her attention from Paul long enough to realize what's going on.

"Don't just sit there," She says. "If you don't go over there, I will, and I'll tell him _alllll_ about your little crush." The sad thing is that I'm not sure if she's kidding or not.

There's a mighty thin line between peer pressure and bravery. Knowing that Rosalie and Jake aren't letting me get out of it, I head for Jasper. Mrs. Cope shoots me a stern stay-in-your-seat glare, but I brush her off. Over the crowd, I hear Alice's bell-like voice. "AND NOW, INTRODUCING THE QUARTERBACK, THE ONE, THE ONLY ... ME!"

I look at the crowd, everyone cheers except for a group of snotty dancers at the front.

I step over books and feet, wondering what I'll even say. I wonder if I'm about to make a fool out of myself. All I can feel is this intensity. My mind is beating in time with my heart. I focus on the seat next to Jasper and try not to notice his wavy hair, or his expensive shoes or the smell of his cologne.

I am beside him.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask.

He looks up, and after a beat, he breaks out smiling.

"Hey, I've been looking all over for you," he says.

I don't know what to say. I'm so happy I'm scared.

There is a roar from the crowd as the cheerleaders cartwheel out. "I've been looking for you too," I say at last.

He says. "Cool," and it's cool. So cool.

I sit down next to him as the audience goes wild for the girls in short skirts. I don't want to scare him away by telling him all the things that scare me. I don't want him to know how important this is. He has to feel the importance himself.

So I turn to him and talk. We talk about Alice, and how neither of us plays sports anymore. He tells me how he used to run track, but hurt his ankles and is unable to do it anymore. I tell him about playing soccer, and how I was teased off the team. We talk about movies, and black and white posters, and piano's and how we both never do our Chemistry homework.

I am looking for signs he understands me. I am looking for my hopes to be confirmed.

We talk about pizza, and discover we both love Hawaiian. We talk about music and find out we both love the piano. We talk about favourite colors and find out both of ours is green.

"Do you really exist?" I blurt out.

"Not at all," Jasper says with a smile. "I figured it out when I was four."

"Well, I had this theory. Although I guess I was too young for theories. You see, I had this imaginary friend and her and I were the best of friends. We talks and built sand castles and played Monopoly. Until one day, when were eating lunch together I thought, what if I'm actually the imaginary friend. What if in her world, I'm the imaginary friend and she's sitting around with her sister and brother and eating ham sandwiches?"

"Sounds reasonable. What was her name?"

"Addie. Yours?"

"Ramonah, with an H"

"Maybe they're together right now."

"Oh, no, not Ramonah. I left her in Chicago."

We are not taking each other too seriously, which is a serious plus. Then I notice the principals on the microphone and the pep rally is almost over.

"I'm glad you found me," Jasper says.

"Me too." And I want to float, because it's that simple. He's glad I found him. Glad I found him. I'm so used of hints and mixed messages, saying things that simple is almost unreal to me. I'm used of games and contests and limitations and rules and roles. Talking so low that nobody will hear us. I am not used to hearing the hard, plain spoken truth.

It pretty much blows me away.

I think Jasper recognizes this. He's looking at me with a sexy grin. The other people are shifting and standing. I want time to stop.

But time doesn't stop.

"Two ninety-one." Jasper tells me.

I paused, unsure of what he's talking about.

"My locker number. I'll see you after school." He explains.

Now I don't want time to stop. I want it to fast forward and hour. As we leave the gym, I see Demetri watching me from beside the basketball team. I don't care. Rosalie and Jacob will no doubt be waiting under the bleachers for a full report.

I can sum it up to one word.

Joy.

* * *

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